The Midnight Rider
by Longing for Fictionland
Summary: Wackjobs will be wackjobs, even after they die. When two hunters named Georgia and Alex discover a string of disappearances connected to a dead serial killer named Robert Chase they think they have their work cut out for them. But is everything really as it seems? And have another pair of hunters picked up the same trail? AU: Sam and Dean are normal hunters, the world's not ending
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So let me start off by saying that this fic is not really meant to be taken very seriously. It's just a fun collab between me and my bestest friend in the whole world, Loudon. I wrote this chapter, and she will write the next one, and so on and so on. It's her first fic, so you should leave plenty of reviews for her!

Also, the places in this fic are real places in Sacramento, except for Beverley Manor, which may or may not exist. Richard Chase was a serial killer who did exist, but of course there is some embellishment here and there.

Finally, this story takes place somewhere in between season two and three, mainly because that's all I've seen so far. So read, review, and enjoy!

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_"In point 2 miles, turn left."_

The strange mechanical voice rung in my ear as I opened my eyes. I was laying on a puffy white cloud, all alone, no one but myself for miles and miles around. Not even the buzzing of a fly or the singing of a bird disturbed the peace. Where could that voice have come from?

_"In point 1 miles, turn left."_

Sighing, I stood and brushed the stray cloud fluff from my jeans. I guess I'd have to go look for whatever was annoying me. Struggling to maintain my balance on the bouncy, uneven surface, I made my way to the left side of my cloud and peered over. All I could see below was miles and miles of green forests, with a blue river snaking through the center. It was so beautiful, so quiet and serene, so... completely and utterly terrifying.

I scrambled my way back to the center of the cloud. It seemed a whole lot more flimsy and unstable now than it did a moment ago.

_'Why am I up so high?! How did I even get up here?! God I hate heights!'_

_"Turn left."_

All of a sudden the cloud I was perched on pitched left, throwing me over the side. The now freezing wind whistled in my ears as I fell, the sharp branches of the trees rushing up to meet me. Now I could see the ground below, and there were clowns, grotesque, evil, grinning clowns. All dancing and swarming and _smiling_. All waiting for me to hit the ground...

"Ahh!"

I jerked awake and tried to sit up, but the seat belt held me back. I took a deep breath, and took stock of my surroundings.

I wasn't on a cloud, I was in the truck, Georgia's truck. A bright red 1996 Ford f150 that was barreling down the road. My seat had been reclined to a horizontal position, and the seat belt had locked on me, effectively cutting off my oxygen supply.

I released the seat belt and pulled the seat back into it's proper position. Over in the driver's side my friend George ( as I call her) sat with one hand out the window and one hand on the steering wheel.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, rubbing my eyes as they adjusted to the glare of the streetlights. "Just another nightmare."

"Well at least you got to sleep." She muttered. I could see the tiredness in her face, and I felt a twinge of pity for my best friend.

"I _could _drive you know. I know how."

She turned to look at me like I had suggested we drive off a cliff. I couldn't help it, I had to laugh. The sheer horror in her eyes was enough to tell me that would never happen.

"Ok, first off," She began, turning her blue eyes back on the road, "you don't have a license, so it's illegal for you to drive."

"Sense when have we ever cared about the legality of anything?"

"SECONDLY, " She interrupted, "There is no way that I would ever, EVER, let you drive my truck. Not even if a hoard of demons were chasing us. Never, no way, not gonna happen."

Well, she was certainly awake now, after that tirade.

"_In point 8 miles turn right" _The GPS helpfully chimed in. We were headed to Sacramento, California to investigate a number of strange disappearances. All four of the victims were young women, between the ages of 16 and 24.

"So, what have you found anything new on our disappearing women?" She asked, taking the right turn as the GPS prompted.

"Yeah," I pulled out a paper map from the glove compartment and unfolded it in my lap. "So, all the victims were last seen in bars here and here." I tapped the red circles on the map with my pen. " The victims were in pairs, two of them would go into the bar together, they would walk out together, then they would both disappear. The police are investigating, but I don't think they have any leads so far. Now, I'm thinking that when we get there, the first thing we do should be to scope out one of those bars."

George turned to look at me like I had sprouted another head.

"What?!"

She slowly turned her head to face out the windshield again.

"Alex, I am going to say this slowly. The very first thing we are going to do when we get there is find a motel, check in, and sleep. I refuse to do anything even remotely job related until I get at least six hours of sleep under my belt." Her left eye twitched a bit, and her tired eyes were suddenly... murderous.

I knew better than to argue.

"Right, sleep, we should get some of that first." I looked back at the map of Sacramento that was spread across my lap. "Anyways, all the disappearances came from either the Park Ultra Lounge or DeVeres Irish Pub, it also looks like the disappearances were centered around here, the International World Peace Rose Garden."

"So is there anything significant about that address?"

"Yeah, actually. It used to be the site of the mental institution called Beverly Manor, one time home of a serial killer named Richard Chase." I pulled George's Iphone from the cup holder and opened Google in Safari. "I haven't checked yet, but I'm willing to bet the victims match his M.O., and the recent disappearances happen to coincide with the week of December 26, the day he died."

She shot me an exasperated glance. "Yeah, sure, you can use my phone, I don't mind."

I shot her a cheeky grin. "I knew you wouldn't."

"So have there ever been any disappearances like like before? Anything to suggest that this is our kind of thing and not just a coincidence?" She popped some fries in her mouth and took a sip of her coffee. She looked like death warmed over, and all of a sudden our decision to drive all night didn't seem like such a good idea.

"Um, yeah," I pulled up an old new story on her phone and showed it to her. "A set of disappearances exactly like this happened ten years ago, only there were six girls, and one more bar called Dive Bar. I figure that's where the next victims are going to come from."

"Hm" she grunted an affirmation. "I'm out of coffee." She let the empty plastic cup drop to the floor board and rubbed her eyes with the newly freed hand.

"So how much further until we get there? No offense, but you look like hell." I glanced out the window, looking for some indication of how much further to Sacramento, but all I could see was other cars and streetlights.

"Well, the GPS says about a half hour, so I'm going to take it's word for it."

I had forgotten about the GPS. "Oh, yeah, I forgot that we got one of those. I glad we did though, we certainly get lost a lot less often." Before we got the GPS, I was the navigator, and that didn't work out very well. See, I'm very directionally challenged, so much so that I highly doubt my ability to navigate my way out of a paper bag.

"Mhm" was the only response I got, and the rest of the ride was spent in silence.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N Hey guys this is my, Loudon's, first ever published Fanfic. Please read, review and enjoy. :)

GEORGIA POV

The last half hour was in silence. I didn't say anything; I don't think I had the mental capacity to make a complete sentence. Alex didn't say anything, I guess in fear that I would fly out of my seat at her.

We pulled off the main road that we were set on. If my screwy GPS is correct a motel should be a few miles away. The divey motel was on the right only two miles off the road that we were on. The VACANCY sign that was lit outside the main office shined like a safety beacon, and I wasted no time getting a room.

The man sitting behind the counter was a little bit shady. He had the greasy hair, and the eyes of a stage five creep. I stepped up to the counter and I felt his eyes rake over my body in a not so subtle way. My entire body tensed and my tired state mind vanished as I went into fight mode.

"Eyes up here." I said as his bug eyes kept their gaze on my chest.

"What can I get you?" In that moment I realized what he reminded me of. It was a rat. He had the same face, same greasy hair, and a voice to match.

"One room, two beds." I said going into bitch mode. He handed my credit card back to me along with one key. I snatched it from his hands and hauled ass out of there.

"Major creep." I said to Alex when I was back beside the truck. I opened the back door and lifted the back seat to reveal a secret compartment.

"What did he do?" She asked turning to see what I was getting out.

" Let's just say his eyes liked to wander." I said as I grabbed out of the compartment: a hunting knife, my pistol, a can of Morton's salt, and some holly water; I also grabbed my duffle off the seat and threw our items into the bag and headed for the room.

The room was like the man from downstairs. Dirty. The walls were a slight yellowy color from cigarette smoke, the covers on the bed looked like they have never even seen a washer, and the TV looks like something out of a 1960's catalog. "Well, this is charming." Alex said sarcastically.

"At this point, I don't even care." I said with a slight front; tossing my bag onto the bed. A cloud of dust poofed out from under it. "That's kind of gross." I admitted.

I pulled the knife out of the bag and handed it to Alex. I pulled out my pistol next and put it on the bed and dug out the can of salt. I went about the room and salted every door and window that there was; Alex was busy drawing devil and witches traps on the floor in chalk. "You think we're good?" I asked putting the salt back in the bag and pulling out a pair of sleeping shorts. I pulled them on after pulling the jeans that I had on off. I stripped the bed of the top cover and jumped in; I was out in mere minutes.

I woke up the next morning after a dreamless night. I let out a sigh of relief that I wasn't woken up by more night terrors. I glanced at the little clock that sat on the bedside table between Alex and me; 11:00. I groaned and slid out of the bed.

"Come on. Get up." I slapped Alex's leg on the way to the bathroom. I heard her groan and saw her sit up a little. I picked up my duffle and headed to the shower.

I pulled out a pair of jeans and an old band t-shirt. I flipped on the faucet and shed my clothes from the day before. I stood in the middle of the shower letting the water wash away the tension that I had built up from the all day drive the day before. The heat and pressure felt as if it were washing the scars and marks of hunting that were built up over the past years.

I could have stayed in the shower and away from the rest of the world if I didn't think Alex also needed a shower. I pulled on my clean clothes and made my way out of the fogged up, shoe box bathroom.

"How'd you sleep?" I asked as I sat on the bed, pulling on my boots.

"Meh." She grumbled. "You? It didn't sound like you had any nightmares last night, Gorge." I rolled my eyes as she used my hated nick name. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and stood up.

"Nah. It was good." I said grabbing my wet, blonde hair and twisting it into a braid.

"I'm getting a shower." She said pulling clean clothes from her own bag and stumbled her way into the still foggy bathroom. I laughed when she almost ran into the door.

It took us little time to finish getting ready and headed out to Old Red. No matter how much I can say that the truck was a piece of crap, it was like a little piece of home that went around everywhere with us. I loved it. It really was my heart and soul. I smiled as I saw it sitting out in the parking lot like a loyal dog waiting for its master.

I pulled on my sunglasses and dug through my coat pocket for my keys. "Someone's in a better mood." Alex said noticing my smile.

I really was in a better mood. "It's a wonder what a little sleep can do for a gall, Alex." I said with a cheeky grin. As we got closer to the truck I notice the car next to us. I let out a low whistle. "Look at the car next to me, Al."

She stretched her neck over the hood of my truck to gaze at the car on the driver's side. "What year do you think it is?"

"Dunno. Late 60's, I know that much." It really was gorgeous. I'm not big into cars. I know the basics, and could give a relative date, but other than that I'm pretty much lost. "It's gorgeous." I said still admiring it.

I heard somebody clear their throat and I looked up from the car. "Can I help you with something?" My mouth dropped open when the man came into focus. He was pretty damn attractive and pretty damn agitated we were looking at his car.

"Umm, no. I'm sorry; I was just admiring your car." My face blushed at the smooth way of speaking. He brushed his shaggy hair way from his eyes and I noticed how large he was. He was a big fella. I would say at least 6'3". Even under his loose fitting flannel shirt I could tell he was muscular. "I should probably get out of your way. Sorry for, Uhh, creeping on your car." I mumbled as I fumbled my way into the driver's side. I heard Alex snigger from the passenger seat.

"Okay, he must have been the hottest man that I have _ever_ seen." She said putting her seat belt on.

"Mhm." I said with my eyes still on the man standing beside, what I could now tell, an Impala. "There's something about him…" I started but then trailed off when I knew I couldn't explain it.

"What is it?" Alex asked fiddling with the GPS on the dashboard.

"Just something off with Dude-buddy." I said with a laugh. I put the keys in the ignition and cranked it. It purred to life and like that we were off and on to begin our new investigation.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N This is the first colab that we actually wrote together. *sniffle* Please enjoy! :D

"Alright. First things first we need to-" I head up my finger to stop Alex mid sentence.

"Coffee. I need coffee first." I said pulling into the closest restaurant that I saw. It was the Cafeteria 15L, and it was very close to the bars we'd be investigating later.

"George, we really need to get started on this." Alex said getting a serious, scornful look on her face.

"Thirty minutes. That's all I'm asking." I said almost begging. Without coffee I can't function. She didn't say anything, just shook her head and looked out the window, obviously annoyed.

When we walked in we were greeted with a very beautiful restaurant that was actually rather empty for the time of day it was. There was an old couple sitting at a table, and a family of tourists sitting outside on the patio. Alex and I chose a table away from everyone else and next to a window the restaurant was way nicer than the dives Alex and I were used to, and way pricier too. But that's ok, Georgia Virginia might be broke as a joke, but Harriet Bohienan had money to burn, and a penchant for charging everything on a credit card.

A waitress that looked to be in her early 20's sauntered her way to us. I could clearly see that she didn't appreciate our slightly scruffy attire in such a nice restaurant. Hey, we're hunters, shopping for new clothes is not very high on our list of priorities.

"What can I get you?" She asked smacking on a piece of gum, her high pony tail jumping with each pop of the pink masticated blob.

"Coffee and bacon for me please." I said, handing over the laminated menu.

The waitress nodded and turned to look at Alex, who was morosely ripping up a napkin with her chin on the table. "What about you?"

"Nothing for me thanks." She swept the little napkin bits in a pile and stared at them like she was attempting to start a fire. Knowing her, I wouldn't be surprised if it worked.

"She'll have hot chocolate and a bagel. Extra cream cheese please." I interrupted, shooting her a look that said 'I don't care how upset you are with me you have to eat'. She rolled her eyes at me, but I knew she'd be in a better mood once she got her favorite food in her.

The waitress, who according to her name tag was named Crystal, raised an eyebrow but took the order anyway. She sauntered her way back over to the kitchen, leaving me and Alex in peace.

"Look, I know you want to jump right in to this case, but," She redirected her fiery-hate-gaze towards me and I rolled my eyes at her. "You're no good to anyone if you starve to death, and I'm not good to anyone without my daily caffeine injection." Her hate-glare was gone, but she was still pouting.

"Besides," I grinned, "Harriet Bohienan is buying, and it's your favorite." Chocolate and cream cheese, the only things in the world needed to make Alex happy.

The pout disappeared and she sat up. "Fine, but we're talking work while we eat." she pulled her Ipod from her pocket and jumped on the restaurants wifi. "And I've got some googling to do!"

_**Alex POV**_

I didn't really want to stop at a restaurant, but the driver always wins. At least the place had wifi, I could work and eat at the same time.

"So, we think the one who's responsible for the disappearances it the ghost of one Richard Chase, right?" I assume George nodded, but I didn't look up to verify. "Well, it makes sense, some of his victims were young girls, and it was a pair of young college women that turned him in."

"So combine that with the fact that the Rose Garden the disappearances were centered around just happened to be built where Beverly Manor was..." She trailed off and we shared a smirk.

"I think it's pretty clear what we're looking for. It's even the week of the day he died." I checked the calender on my ipod to be sure. Yep, it was December 26, exactly 20 years since Richard Chase killed himself by overdosing on anti-depressants while awaiting the death penalty.

"So-" George began, but she was interrupted by Crystal bringing our food. Giving us dirty looks as she did so, she placed a bagel in front of me and a plate of bacon in front of George. Our respective hot beverages came next, and George, being the oh-so-polite person she was, mumbled a thanks in spite of her rudeness, while I just tapped at my ipod.

Once she left I locked my ipod and dug in, they had heaped the cream cheese on the bagel, just the way I liked it. The hot chocolate was nice too, it had mini marshmallows, and whipped cream on the top.

George was busy drinking the raw sewage she called 'black coffee' ugh... I shudder at the thought. The only coffee that is in any way suitable for human consumption is McDonald's mocha frappes.

"So, I guess our first move would be to hit up that last bar you mentioned. Dive Bar, right? I figure we'll go there and try to get ourselves kidnapped." She sat the mug filled with the black bile back on the table and started on the bacon in front of her.

"That's the plan." I mumbled around a bite of bagel. "All of the girls who disappeared left the bars right at closing, so I figure we'll tail any other girls that leave then, if we can't get ourselves taken."

"It's a date then." She grinned and raised her mug of swill in the air, and I laughed and tapped my mug of hot chocolate against it.

"It's a date."

_**Meanwhile...**_

Sam watched the red truck drive off with a peculiar look on his face. He didn't like anybody hanging around the impala, it made him nervous. That car was their life, after all.

Satisfied that the two strange girls were long gone, he turned around and headed back into the small, dirty hotel room he was sharing with Dean.

"What's eatin you?" Dean asked looking up from where he sat on the bed watching tv.

Sam took a few seconds to respond not really knowing what to say. He finally mumbled, "Two girls were looking at the impala."

Dean flashed a wolffish grin. "Were they hot?" He asked getting off the bad and walking to the little table that had the laptop sitting on it.

"Dean," Sam said with a roll of his brown eyes.

"What?! I was just asking... but seriously, were they hot?" Dean said, the smirk never leaving his face.

"...Yeah, I guess." He said, not really knowing how to respond. He pulled the laptop open to the research he had done earlier.

"Dude, how old were they?" Dean asked with a devilish grin.

"I don't know 19, 20." Sam said with a shrug.

"Dude... they're legal!" Dean said with a laugh. "Chicks dig the car."

Sam huffed in annoyance and sent an irritated look towards his older brother. 'There's no way we're really brothers.' Sam thought to himself, not for the first time. He pulled up the last of the nightclubs people were disappearing from and handed it Dean.

"This is where we are headed?" he asked, taking it from his brother's hands and plopping down next to him. "Alright, let's get geared up." Dean said with a clap. Sam got up and headed for the bag sitting on his bed. "But really... they were hot, right?"

"DEAN!" Sam said throwing a pillow at his laughing face. Dean caught it effortlessly and threw it back at him, hitting Sam square in the face.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N **Here is chapter 4 guys! Sorry for not posting sooner we have been caught up in the holiday. As always; read review and enjoy! :)

**Georgia POV**

"Come on Alex, we 're hunting for ghosts, not dates! "

I heard an indignant huff from the other side of the bathroom door. "Come on George, have you seen the place? We might be hunters but that doesn't mean we can 't be girls on occasion ." I heard the door handle jiggle as Alex walked out of the bathroom, gave a little twirl and looked at me expectantly. "So what do you think?"

The deep purple long sleeved shirt she wore hugged her slender frame nicely while still remaining relatively nondescript, and the skirt, just a few inches above her knees, was plain black and modest as always. Her medium-length curly hair framed her slightly baby-ish face and landed softly on her shoulders. Her blue eyes made only more noticeable by the sparse but effective makeup she was wearing.

As I was eying her, she looked me up and down. "Alright lets work on your outfit."

"What's wrong with this?" I asked defensively, "It's not like we have to impress anyone. We're on a case."

"The Dive Bar is no place to wear boots and ratty old band shirts." Alex berated me "And besides, we have to look like we belong there. Someone could get suspicious"

I sighed, conceding my defeat."... but I can wear the jeans, right?"

"No! Those things have more holes in them than a net. Come on. Lets get some work done." She grabbed my hand and pulled me to the tiny bathroom.

It took thirty minutes of vicious tugging and pulling to get my hair into a shape that made Alex happy. She had unmercifully coiffed my normally straight blonde hair into loose ringlets, sculpting it so that it fell down to the middle of my back and framed my round face nicely. After realizing that I had nothing fancier than a holey flannel shirt, I had to resort to borrowing something from Alex, who was significantly shorter than me.

**Alex POV**

"Why do you not own clothes?" I asked after sorting through the backseat of George's truck for the fourth time. It was also known as our closet, pantry, personal storage, medicine cabinet, and on occasion, my bed. If you were to flip up the bench seat you would find a small armory of shotguns, hand guns, and all sorts of other guns that I was not aloud to touch unless we were on a hunt and George was with me. George is afraid I'll accidentally shoot myself, or her, or innocent bystanders.

I mean, come on, you shoot yourself in the leg ONE TIME.

Sandwitched between the guns there were rosaries, several types of knives (the only weapon I was allowed to keep on my person while not under close supervision), two EMF readers with a third residing in George's pocket, a few gallon jugs of emergency holy water, and of course, an exact metric shit-ton of ammo.

Among the things we carried with on our persons were a flask of holy water each (mine was getting beat up to tell the truth, I needed another one), and our special rings, which had the stones pulled out and replaced with hunks of iron and had anti-possession symbols carved into the bands. I carried a knife in an arm holster when it was cold enough to wear long sleeves, when it wasn't I carried a large folding knife under my shirt, plus a pocket knife for good measure. I was also in charge of note taking, computer searching (I wouldn't call it hacking, per say), and lock picking. George usually carried at least one gun, her own pocket knife, more ammo than was probably needed, and a rosary, should we need more holy water. We heard there had been a rise of demon activity recently.

The last thing was a picture of George's parents, tapped to the bottom of the seats that lifted to reveal the compartment. They were the reason George and I started hunting. Exactly a three years and two weeks ago they had been killed by a werewolf, and that was when we met Tim, who had, albeit grudging, taught us the basics of hunting. The rest came from a combination of Googleing and learning from experience. Well, I googled. George just kind of ran in, guns blazing.

Speaking of George, she was busy pouting.

"I didn't think something like this would happen." George mumbled defensively. Even when we were 'normal' George didn't really like to wear skirts. But luckily she has me around.

"Always be prepared," I lilted in a sing-song voice. I pulled her back into the dingy hotel room, but not before I saw her checking out the empty space the black Impala had taken next to her truck. Whoever they were, they hadn't been back all morning. I wasn't surprised, this was the kind of motel where strange people liked to set up shop, me and George included.

**Georgia POV**

Alex pulled every type and color of dress and blouse from her bag while I stared in amazement. For one, her duffel bag she used to hold pretty much everything she owned wasn't that big, and there was no way she could possibly fit all that in there. Secondly, I had never even seen most of the clothes she was pulling out. Normally she just wore a pair of old, comfortable jeans and a t-shirt, pretty much the same as me.

As she pulled them out she held each up to me, thought about it, then shook her head. After several minutes of searching she finally came across a little black dress. It was fairly basic and was made of a soft material. The front was rather modest, but the back of it was cut almost all the way down to my butt. It went so far down the top of my anti-possession tattoo was exposed, and when I put it on the skirt went to about five inches above my knees, but the slit in it went all the way up to expose a bit of the short bicycle shorts I was wearing, to conserve modesty while butt-kicking.

"It's a little... revealing, isn't it?" I mumbled, trying to pull the back up and pull the skirt down at the same time. "Why do you even own this?" I knew for a fact Alex would never wear this.

"Well, it was on sale for $26, it usually cost $108." She said, shrugging and throwing my leather jacket at me. "I figured 'eh, why not'. I came in handy though, didn't it?" She eyed me up and down, smirking. "You look hot."

"Whatever, so do you have everything you need?" I made sure my .22 revolver was loaded before I carefully slipped it into an inner pocket of my jacket along with a lighter, and a small can of salt. I picked up a similar gun from the desk and held it out for Alex to take. "Be very careful," I warned her, "do not shoot yourself, or me, or any innocent bystanders."

She rolled her eyes at me before taking it and putting it safely into the holster she had inside the waistband of her skirt. When she pulled her shirt down it was invisible, just like the knife in the arm holster I knew she was wearing under her right sleeve.

The weapons wouldn't really help us against the ghost, but they would help us if we ran into any weirdos. The bar was open until 2am, so that was when we'd leave and try and get ourselves kidnapped by a ghost. If anyone else tried anything though, we'd be more than prepared.

Alex slipped on her own jacket, a long black thing with about 90+ pockets inside and out, and we headed out the door.

_**Meanwhile, with Sam and Dean,**_

Dean sat on the creaking motel bed and pulled on his boots. He could hear the muffle sound of the shower running, telling him that Sam still hadn't gotten out. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table and groaned when he saw the time 10:36.

"Time to get out, Sammy." Dean shouted through the door. He didn't get a reply, but he heard the shower being cut off and he swore he could almost hear Sam's exasperated sigh.

The flimsy bathroom door swung open and hit the wall with a bang, revealing a slightly irritated Sam wearing nothing but a towel.

"You about done in there princess?" Dean smirked and jumped up off the bed. "Well, I'm ready to go, but I'm pretty sure the bar won't let you in wearing that."

"Dean..."

"Sam..." Dean mimicked Sam's whine. Sam snatched his clothes off the bed and headed back to the bathroom. "I'm going to warm up the car, just meet me out there. And hurry up pretty boy, the ghost doesn't care what you look like!"

He ducked the damp towel that was throw at him and headed out the door to start up the impala.

The air outside was cold, which was expected in the middle of December, and the motel was silent, which made it all the more unexpected when he felt the bump of someone running into him from behind. He spun around quickly and caught the girl out of reflex before she landed on her ass. For one awkward moment they both stood there, Dean's right hand wrapped around the girl's upper arm and the girls hand gripping his shirt, before the girl found her voice.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry." She mumbled before quickly stepping away. It was then that Dean noticed what she was wearing, a tiny black dress that hugged her body very nicely, in Dean's opinion. The effect was only heightened when she shifted a bit and Dean saw the slit in it that went almost all the way up her long legs.

"No problem. Are you okay?" Dean asked trying to regain control of his brain as it was being taken over by a different part of his anatomy.

"Yeah, thanks." She showed him a brilliant smile. "I wasn't paying attention to were I was going, I'm sorry."

Dean put on his best womanizing grin and leaned against the rough brick of the wall. "No problem. My name's Dean."

She gave him a flirty smile. "Georgia."

"Well Georgia, you-"

He was interrupted by the arrival of another girl, a shorter one with brown hair, but with the same silent steps as the blonde. She came to stand slightly in front of Georgia, and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Hi, I'm Alex, can we help you?" She asked with a steely glare.

Dean couldn't help but laugh at the tiny girl who was trying to intimidate him. "I'm Dean, and I was just about to ask your friend here if she'd like to go grab a drink with me tomorrow. That is if you ladies are planing on sticking around that long."

Georgia opened her mouth to respond, but was quickly interrupted by Alex.

"I'm sorry, but me and my friend need to be getting some where very soon." She pushed the blonde out towards the parking lot, never taking her eyes off of him.

"Yeah, we do need to get going. I'm sorry again!" She shouted over her shoulder as she was being forcibly shoved towards the red Ford truck sitting next to the Impala.


End file.
